


Homecoming

by equestrianstatue



Category: due South
Genre: Diefenbaker Cockblock Cameo, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 01:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equestrianstatue/pseuds/equestrianstatue
Summary: Oh, no, right. That made sense. Perfect sense. Fraser lived here. He worked here. He spent hours and hours in this room, staring at paperwork, getting dressed down by the Ice Queen, sleeping quietly and alone. Wouldn’t it be nice to glance up from the paperwork, once in a while, and see the doorway where he and Ray were making out right now?





	Homecoming

Fraser unlocked the door to the Consulate, Diefenbaker nudging impatiently at his leg. Ray stood behind him, looking over his shoulder at the path behind them, and at the lawn, which smelt fresh and green, even though it was too dark right now to see the color. If you drove past this building and you didn’t know what it was— if somehow you missed the sign, or, say, the enormous flag— you’d maybe think it’d be a cool place to live. Looked like a nice big house. Roomy, comfortable.

“Will you spend the night with me?” Fraser had asked, over dinner. Ray had been kind of working on that assumption already. Fraser didn’t usually put in a formal request.

“Sure,” Ray said, though he must’ve looked like he thought something was up.

“I mean, with me, at mine,” Fraser clarified. “Well. At Her Majesty’s.”

Ray grinned at that, and after a second Fraser’s mouth twitched, and Ray said, “Sure,” again, because why not?

It wasn’t like there was anything to _do_ in Little Canada, aside from maybe some of Fraser’s extra-credit filing, and Ray’d do a lot of things for love, but he wouldn’t do that. Unless it was a real emergency. So, you know, ‘spend the night at the Consulate’ definitely meant ‘do it at the Consulate’. Fraser didn’t even have a working TV any more.

Ray hadn’t actually stayed the night in Canadian territory since— well, since before the beginning of whatever this was. Since whenever he last crashed out on the couch in Thatcher’s office because they’d been double-checking some suspect against the Consulate’s files at 4am, and Fraser had insisted that he was too tired to drive himself home. Actually, he hadn’t been to the Consulate much at all lately, not now that Fraser had started often enough staying over at his.

The door swung open to the dark cavern of the hallway. “Hello?” Fraser called politely into the emptiness, anyway, presumably because he didn’t trust Turnbull not to lock himself in. His voice didn’t even echo. The silent lobby just swallowed it up.

Ray thought of all the times he’d dropped Fraser at the curb just outside, night after night, month after month, and watched his straight red back retreat towards the door. Man, it felt sad here, it made Ray feel _sad_ , the thought of all of those evenings and nights that Fraser walked into this big hollow place all alone, went through to the back to his office, pulled out the poky little bed. No wonder they never came here when they didn’t have to.

“Fraser, you sure you don’t want to go— ” _home_ , Ray nearly said, and bit it off— “back to my place?” A sudden thought struck him. “Because it’s not like you’ve overstayed your welcome. You don’t gotta bring me here to be polite. Don’t get me wrong, I love what you’ve done with the place, but…”

Fraser had switched on the lights, and he closed the front door behind them. Dief started sniffing around one of the chairs, checking no other wolves had gotten into his territory.

“No, Ray,” Fraser said. “I’d like to stay here.”

“Why?” Ray asked, before he could stop himself.

Fraser lived here. He worked here. He’d probably spent more hours squeezed into that cramped little office than he’d previously spent indoors in his life. Ray used to think that Chicago must feel real oppressive, dense, compared to what Fraser was used to. After he’d been to Fraser’s office a couple times, Chicago felt wild. It felt like a jungle. No wonder Fraser spent as much of his time as possible just running round it.

“I live here,” Fraser said. He started off across the lobby, and Ray followed him. “I work here.” He opened the door to his office, and switched on the light. There it was, Fraser’s beige box of a home, everything packed away as tightly as possible just to give him enough space to move. They looked at the room, and then looked at each other. Fraser said, “I just want to...” and trailed off, and shrugged in a particularly un-Fraserish way, and then kissed him.

Ray was getting used to that, just about. The way that Fraser, like, _went_ for him. No second thoughts, no time for cold feet, just, wham! God, the first time, Ray’d nearly keeled over from the surprise, and he’d half-known it was coming, too. Just hadn’t expected it to be quite so much, quite so quickly. He’d been kinda nervous, and mostly on Fraser’s behalf, actually. But one minute it was Fraser-buddy-we-gotta-talk, and the next, it was Fraser on him like a rash.

Figured, maybe. Ray had never known Fraser to half-ass anything else in his life. Mostly he kissed Ray so hard, so seriously, like he was trying to push everything Day-To-Day Fraser didn’t say direct into Ray’s heart through his mouth. Which, to be fair, seemed to be working. They had whole conversations like that, Ray thought, sometimes. The big ones, the life-changing ones, didn’t seem to happen out loud. Not just life-changing like they used to not be doing each other and now they were, but as in, _I would change my life for you_. Ray thought that, once, that specific phrase, only he knew full well that anything that popped into your head within ten seconds of an orgasm ought to come with a big blaring red-zone warning: do not say out loud. At best, totally dumb, and at worst, dangerous. So it was just a thought.

Tonight, Ray had been going for a soft kiss, a careful kiss, an everything’s-gonna-be-okay kind of kiss, but that didn’t seem to be what Fraser was after at all. The kiss he gave Ray was immediate, hungry, but not like he was trying to say something important through it. Just kind of like he wanted to get on with getting laid.

Oh, no, right. That made sense. Perfect sense. Fraser lived here. He worked here. He spent hours and hours in this room, staring at paperwork, getting dressed down by the Ice Queen, sleeping quietly and alone. Wouldn’t it be nice to glance up from the paperwork, once in a while, and see the doorway where he and Ray were making out right now? Ray sometimes got a sense-memory of Fraser blowing him just by lying a certain way across his couch, so strong it could get him hard if he was in the mood. He moved back against the jamb of the door, nudging Fraser to lean right into him, to hold him tight up against it while they kissed.

Diefenbaker trotted over to whine petulantly at them. Fraser pulled away, but slowly, and Ray caught his bottom lip gently between his teeth before he let it slide free. Fraser closed his eyes, just for a second. Then he looked down at Dief.

“You have eaten.”

Diefenbaker appealed to Ray.

“If you think I am taking your side on this,” Ray told him, still held in place by Fraser’s warm body, “you got another think coming.”

“No,” said Fraser, firmly. “Well, I don’t care for that attitude. And when was the last time I failed to respect your privacy?” A sharp woof. “We both know that was a misunderstanding, that I apologized to you _extensively_ at the time, and that it was over five years ago.”

Dief gave a snort and stalked away down the hall, before turning to pad up the stairs.

“Diefenbaker, you know very well that floor is out of bounds.” Fraser didn’t sound like he could be bothered even to convince himself, because he said, “Oh, suit yourself,” before Dief had got to the top of the stairs, pulled Ray into his office, and shut the door behind them.

Fraser glanced at him, now that they were alone. A quick, almost rueful sort of look, from under his brow. But before he could say anything, Ray braced his hands against the closed door, either side of Fraser’s head, and leaned in so that their lips just brushed. He felt Fraser relax, his body slacken in expectation, but Ray pushed himself backwards again on his hands. Fraser’s gaze snapped upwards to meet his, and Ray raised his eyebrows at him.

C’mon, Fraser. It’s a game. Play the game.

The second time he did it, Fraser grabbed him at the waist and pulled him right in. Another time Ray might’ve fought him for it, messed with him, made Fraser wrestle him into position, but that wasn’t what this was really about, not tonight. He went where Fraser put him and then kissed him properly, longer and slower and dirtier, too, sucked on his tongue.

A necking session like this would be enough to give Ray grade-A memories of any door, but they could do way better than that. They came up for breath, and Fraser glanced away from his face to look at the room behind him. Yeah. What did he want? Fraser could see the door most of the time he was in here, Ray guessed, so maybe they should stay right here. Maybe they could turn about, have Fraser nail him right up against it, Ray’s cheek pressed to the wood.

The thought pooled hot in Ray’s dick, and he pressed his hips up and forward. Fraser made a soft noise of appreciation, and brought his hands down from Ray’s back and shoulders to his ass, holding tight and keeping him still. Fraser’s erection pushed expectantly into his thigh, but he just held Ray there, for a little while.

“You wanna do it here?” Ray asked, low and quiet, right into the shell of Fraser’s ear.

Fraser inhaled deeply, but then he shook his head. He relaxed his grip on Ray and then started to move, shifting his hips, walking Ray backwards until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the desk. Fraser pushed him down to sit on it, quite gently. Ah, fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck,” Ray told him, and pulled him down by the diagonal of his belt to kiss again. He kept their mouths together as he leaned further back, splaying one arm out behind himself for balance, spreading his legs wide so that Fraser could get between them and follow him down.

There was barely anything on the desk, no papers, no files: just Fraser’s stationery tidy and empty in-tray and a paperweight with nothing underneath it. Ray’d never paid a whole lot of attention to what was on it before, and though he guessed Fraser’s desk was the neatest in the city at the end of each day, he wondered if it might not always be quite this empty. Like maybe Fraser had cleared it earlier before he came down to the station to meet him, like maybe he’d moved his papers out of the way and thought, _Later tonight—_

Ray closed his eyes and groaned.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, when he opened them.

“As much as possible,” Fraser said, with the sort of grim determination that brought criminal empires to their knees.

Fraser took off his tunic, but nothing else, for now. He undressed Ray slowly, piece by piece, taking time over odd parts of his body that Ray never would have figured for particularly sexy. He spent a while sucking at the pulse point on Ray’s left wrist, ran his fingers through the grooves across the backs of Ray’s knees. The obvious places too, though. Ray wanted to come from this some day, jerk himself off while Fraser just touched other parts of him. He thought about suggesting it now, but Fraser wrapped his hand around his cock, and Ray, as usual, shut up.

Ray was still sitting on the desk, Fraser still in the gap between his legs. He reached forward to make a start on Fraser’s weird pants, but Fraser said, “In a minute, in a minute,” and moved back out of his reach. He kept his hand on Ray, though, started stroking him long and slow, breathing in and out in time with it.

“Good?” said Fraser, after a moment, and he didn’t usually ask that, because he knew what was good for Ray, they both knew. Ray grunted his appreciation, but Fraser said, “Is it good, Ray?”

He wanted it in words, fine, not a problem. “Yeah,” Ray murmured, “yeah, it’s the best.”

Fraser leaned in like he was going to kiss him again, but when Ray opened his mouth against his, Fraser pulled back and shook his head. Ray waited, and then made a happy, closed-mouth sound as Fraser leaned back in, and licked him gently from one side of the mouth to the other, the tip of his tongue just pushing between his lips. Yeah. Yeah. Fraser was playing with him, all right. He began to mouth gently at Ray’s face, but not in the way Ray was used to, all panting heat and thick desire. It was delicate, soft, exploratory, his tongue poking out to taste small swatches of Ray’s skin.

Fraser was closer now, and when Ray started rubbing the heel of his palm against his pants, he didn’t stop him. The angle was off but it must have been working anyhow, because eventually Fraser stopped what he was doing and unhooked them, unbuttoned them, while Ray pushed the suspenders off his shoulders. Fraser shoved the whole shebang down over his hips and let Ray get his hands on him.

“You sit down,” Ray said, not really expecting him to do it, more just putting the suggestion out there, but Fraser did. He pulled Ray to his feet, turned them around, leaned on the edge of the desk and let Ray do what he wanted to him.

Ray liked this, having Fraser mostly dressed, especially when he was in the uniform. So though his first impulse was to get rid of Fraser’s undershirt, in the end he only rucked it up, touched some skin here and there, and then went down on Fraser for a while just as he was.

Fraser was still to start with, his muscles tense with the effort, but Ray wasn’t down for that. He rubbed at Fraser’s thighs, pushed his pants as far down as they would go, until they caught at the top of his boots, and moved his legs further apart. Fraser grunted, let him do it, and then rocked against him, gently, steadily.

Probably it could have gone on forever, Ray thought, if it weren’t for the practicalities: Fraser was too high up for Ray to get at him kneeling down, so he was in some kind of half-lean, half-crouch, and before too long his legs were aching. He tried to push Fraser backwards across the desk, but that pushed him a little deeper into Ray’s mouth, and Fraser spoke, finally: “No, no, not yet,” he said, and it sounded dragged out of him, heavy and slow. He touched the side of Ray’s face with one hand and pushed slightly at his shoulder with the other, and Ray leaned back and let him go. Fraser’s dick popped up again, wetter and redder— and it would be so easy just to finish him off like this, with his hands or his mouth or both, and Fraser would make this noise, strangled and surprised and helpless, but no, no, not yet, okay.

Fraser had pulled one foot up to the edge of the desk, and was unlacing the boot on it with unreasonable speed and dexterity considering that he’d just been blown to fuck, so Ray let him get on with it. Before long Fraser was naked from the waist down, could finally kick the pants and shorts off over his feet. He took Ray by the hand and pulled him back onto the desk, next to him, turning them so that Ray practically lay down across it. Fraser kissed him kind of lazily, like he was trying to keep the bite and the drive behind it at bay, and he did about as well as anyone could probably have managed. The hem of Fraser’s undershirt was catching on Ray’s cock, the brief brush of sensation almost worse than nothing at all.

“Wait,” Fraser panted, and moved away, stood up again. Ray thought he was maybe pulling back to get a visual, but he disappeared to the other side of the desk with barely a second glance at Ray spread out for him.

Fraser was crouched on the floor, pulling out his bottom drawer and reaching into the back of it, and he came up again with a tube of slick. Yeah. Ray’d figured. Only not figured necessarily for it being kept in the desk itself. For what, sex emergencies pertaining to the interests of Canada?

“You always have that there?” Ray asked him 

Since this morning? Since they’d started— dating? Although Ray had realized they’d pretty much started dating the day Fraser first turned up, nearly set him on fire, and asked him out to dinner. So, to be more precise, since Ray _noticed_ they were dating?

“Since— ” Fraser seemed to consider his answer. “Well. Since your birthday.”

Ray’s last birthday had been about three months before the thing where he noticed they were dating, and then Fraser noticed that he’d noticed, and then everything had gotten a little out of hand. “Oh. Wow.”

“Your birthday before last,” Fraser clarified.

Oh. Wow.

“Is it still good?” Ray asked, somehow, instead of, _You been thinking about fucking me for a year and a half, Fraser?_

“I have a manufacturer’s guarantee, Ray.”

Ray laughed at him, and after a moment, Fraser smiled right back.

Ray knew Fraser had a picture for this, he had something in mind, and he was still maybe not quite gonna say it. So Ray asked, “How do you want me? On my back, on my front, what?”

Fraser shook his head. Ray shook his head in response: _what, then?_ Fraser smiled again, just slightly this time, just at the corner of his mouth, and tossed the tube towards Ray.

Ray caught it, and said, “Oh, shit, okay.”

Fraser liked to look him in the eye, touch him, kiss him, when Ray was inside him, so most often they did this face to face. From where Ray was laid out now, he could tell that wasn’t going to work. No purchase, nothing to lean on, nothing to keep him in place. Which meant that, man, he was going to have to, they were going to have to— exactly how long had Fraser been wanting to get bent over his own desk?

Fraser was relaxed as hell already, despite how wired Ray felt right now, and he braced himself against the edge of the desk with his hands as Ray worked him open, steady as he could. Fraser actually started to slip downwards, forwards, until he had his head pillowed on his forearms.

“Feel okay?” Ray asked, and Fraser barely even moved. “Feel ready?”

“Yes,” said Fraser, thickly, below him.

Ray pulled his fingers out to set himself up, breathed deep. Shook himself quickly all over, like he only ever used to do to make Stella laugh at him, and Fraser wasn’t even looking.

“You gonna take your shirt off?” Ray asked him.

Fraser looked round. “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah,” Ray decided, eventually.

Fraser pulled it over his head in a quick, fluid movement, and dropped it onto the floor.

They went slow, real slow: they’d shaken all the urgency right out. Fraser exhaled, loud and long, and then started making these noises that sounded more like contentment than anything else, as Ray fucked him careful and deliberate. God. God. Ray dropped his head to rest against Fraser’s back, felt the heat of his skin, opened and closed his mouth against it, kind of uselessly. He forced himself to hold back, so much that he stopped, just hung out there for a while, buried in Fraser’s ass. Fraser’s head thunked gently against the wood-top.

“Hey,” Ray said. “Hey, Frase. Tell me what you do here, on a normal day.”

“What?” Fraser managed, after a moment.

“Day in the life of a Canadian desk jockey. Go.”

“I, uh.” Fraser seemed pretty lost for words, but God love the guy, he was trying. “I have to. Get up, wash, dress, open everything up.”

Ray drew back and pushed forward, steady, steady, and Fraser trailed off, groaned faintly. “And then?” Ray said, as he managed to grind to a halt.

“I. I make sure everything is in order for the Inspector, I check the events calendar to ensure that what I’ve, ah, _remembered_ — is correct— Ray, what’re you— ”

“And you sit right there?” Ray nodded at the chair on the other side of the desk, not that Fraser could see him.

“I do.”

“You’ll sit there tomorrow?”

“I will.”

“And you won’t be able to— ” Fraser made a small noise at Ray’s careful, precise movement— “ _concentrate_ , because you’ll remember this. You’ll think about this.”

Fraser shook a little against the wood, against Ray. Ray took it as a yes. He kept moving; Fraser had stopped talking again, and Ray thought they’d gotten about as far as they could go. But then, after a long pause, Fraser said, “I already think about you, Ray.” His voice was low and hot. Genuine, but deliberate, too. Fuck.

“You do?”

“Always.”

Man, this was not where Ray’d been heading with this, but, but, that was fine. He could _feel_ Fraser’s voice, feel it vibrating right through him, and he started to move faster, couldn’t stop himself.

“I think about when I’ll next see you,” Fraser said, and he sounded pretty fucked up, to be fair, but not as much as he should be by rights. “Or when I last saw you.”

“Yeah,” said Ray, kind of desperately; fucking in earnest now, nothing to be done about it.

“I look at the clock and I can time it, almost to the minute. Time seems to move very slowly here. But I can work out how long it will be before you touch me again.”

“Oh, Jeez. Don’t.”

Fraser’s breath rasped in his throat. “I sit and I work and sometimes I think I can _smell_ you on me. That it will never go away. And I wonder if other people can smell it, too, and, God, Ray, I hope they do.”

“Stop, Fraser,” Ray ground out, “You have to stop right there,” but he didn’t mean it, and it was too late anyway. He’d lost any rhythm, any control he might have clung to. He felt himself coming, so he pushed as deep inside Fraser as he could, and groaned, and groaned, and hung his head.

Eventually, he opened his eyes, inhaled sharply, ran his hands over Fraser’s body, taut and strained. Fraser, still breathing heavy and deep, hadn’t come yet. So Ray got himself out, turned Fraser round to face him, and just tipped him back over the desk. Fraser lay down across it, and let Ray lean over him and jerk him off. He was pretty near gone, and before long he threw his arm across his face, like even looking at Ray was too much. But Ray could still see his mouth, could see him biting down on his lip as he rolled up into the rough warmth of Ray’s hand, and then he gasped, and let himself finish.

Ray let him go. He could feel the heat cooling gradually across his own body, like every part of him was settling down, sitting back. His blood, his bones, his skin. Fraser pulled his arm away from his face, and his eyes flickered open. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Fraser said, “My God, Ray,” and just laughed, shocked, delighted.

It wasn’t even that late, but Ray wasn’t embarrassed to say that he was totally wiped. Also, they’d chased a guy six blocks before dinner, so, you know. Ray’d been inches from his gun, skidding to a halt at Fraser’s heels, before he realized that they were apparently returning the wallet the guy had dropped. Ray was by now fairly sure Fraser that pulled this kind of thing mostly to piss him off. Well, okay, maybe around fifty percent that. Twenty percent civic duty. Twenty percent showing off. Ten percent just being into running after shit.

So they got out Fraser’s cot, and honest to God Fraser made some noises about getting out the bedroll too— and yeah, the cot was clearly not designed for two, barely seemed to be designed for one, but it wasn’t the smallest bed Ray’d shared. So they managed to fit into it together, through experimentation and compromise and sheer force of will.

“What’re you gonna do with me in the morning?” Ray asked.

“Smuggle you out dressed as a washerwoman,” said Fraser, into the top of his head. His voice hummed through Ray’s skull.

“Sounds good.”

“Nobody will be here until nine.”

“Sure. I just gotta be dressed. Sometimes I have to come and see you early, you know, legit.”

“You do,” Fraser agreed.

“More, maybe.”

“Maybe.”

“Could be that we have a big case to work on.”

“Could be.”

“Fraser,” said Ray, to his own surprise, because he was pretty sure he was about to fall asleep, “you gotta get your own place.”

“I know,” Fraser said, which was a surprise, too.

“You do?”

“I’ve known for a while.” Fraser’s voice wasn’t going directly into his head any more; he was looking up at the ceiling. There was a pause while Ray, sex-stupid, sleep-stupid, tried to translate this. Eventually Fraser said, “I don’t belong here.”

Fraser survived Chicago. That was probably the best you could say about their relationship.

“Yeah, I know,” Ray said.

Fraser pushed his hand softly through Ray’s hair. “But I can’t, I’m not willing to, to lose…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“You know.”

“Yeah.”

Ray turned his head upward, the little that he could, so that they could see each other. _I would change my life for you._ He thought it so hard it hurt.

Fraser looked at him. “But I think,” he said, at last, “that it will be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, you can also reblog it [on tumblr](https://justlikeeddie.tumblr.com/post/180280278582/homecoming-equestrianstatue-due-south-archive)!


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